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I ran The Poland Spring Marathon Kick-off 5 mile race this morning. 42:32, or exactly an 8:30 pace. Not terrible. Not enough to get me to reverse my decision about deferring, but not terrible. Exactly one minute slower than the same race a year ago. Probably closer to 30-seconds slower, but I had to stop a little past mile one to dehydrate. So overall, not too terrible.
Problem is though, I shouldn’t be running at all. You know, that whole “healing” thing…
How do you just not run? How do you know there’s a race and just not do it? What the hell is that? The whole reason I became a lifetime member of NYRR in the first place was so my races would be free. To not run… Hell, that’s like losing money!
I know I shouldn’t run. I know I should rest my ankles, and my IT band, and my Achilles. I know.
But how do you not run? When you crave the dopamine that comes from crossing the finish line? When you long for the taste of sweat as it drips into your mouth and the sting of it as it drips into your eyes? When you jones for that rush that comes from knowing there’s only one mile left?
How do you not run, when you’re addicted to it?
Leave it to me to become an addict to the one thing that doesn’t curb my appetite, or bring me that much closer to a modelling contract. Leave it to me to become addicted to something that requires me to go to bed early, instead of letting me stay out all night.
See? Yet another reason why I was never much good at being cool.
On the plus side, thanks to my client Disaboom, I’m going to not only the Mayor’s reception for the marathon, but also to the Achilles Marathon Dinner at Cipriani this week. Yay! And because I’m not running, I can actually enjoy myself, as opposed to finding the nearest chair so I can rest my feet.
Anyhow… I found an Olympic-size swimming pool, less than 20 blocks from my apartment, so I can start using that on a regular basis. I’m also buying this (thanks Ken for the recommendation) so I can start biking all over the place, as my Felt is too much of a racing bike to use on day-to-day Manhattan streets.
Winter is coming. I shall be recovering. And training. And healing…
And maybe, just maybe, sneaking out to run a race every once in a while. But I swear, I don’t need an intervention.
At least… Not yet.